Fainted Phantoms
by FOXZILA44
Summary: As SnowClan falls prey to a deadly illness, no herbs can in their stock can cure it. Swiftwater meets cats with the cure, and genuine interest of the clans. With their knowledge saving SnowClan, they are accepted in. As one cat climbs his way up in ranks, Swiftwater thinks he may have been wrong about these loners' intentions. Short story, rated for possible future gore.
1. Prologue

Cold air filtered through the camp grounds. Not many were out of their dens. Night was closing in on the camp, but Tawnystar was too worried to sleep.

Cherryfeather, the dear medicine cat, had become very ill. It was rare for medicine cats to receive an illness, let alone a life threatening one. The leader could only sit outside the den, listening for something on the inside of the medicinal area.

A puff of breath left his muzzle, followed by a billow of warm air into the night sky. He drew in a breath, standing as the entrance to the medicine den rustled. A dark brown and sandy tom pushed his way out, moss tucked under his chin. "Thistletongue," Tawnystar greeted, kneading the ground momentarily. "How is she?" Thistletongue set the moss down, tail twitching, face grim.

"It's… Not looking good. You may want to say your last words to her." He admitted, voice calm, but grief weighed heavy in the medicine cat apprentice's eyes. "Don't get too close. I'm not sure how viral the sickness is." He ducked his head once more, tucking the moss under his chin after he'd gathered it.

"Don't get sick, Thistletongue." Tawnystar warned. Thistletongue twitched his ears, acknowledging he'd heard, and padded towards the camp entrance. The ginger, white and brown leader sighed, squaring his shoulders. He ducked into the medicine den, green eyes focusing on a lump near the back of the den. He could hear faint, raspy breathing. Swallowing, he picked his way over to her, peering down at her thin body.

Age had taken ahold of her, but the illness had done worse. Her fur was a mess, the thick calico was clumpy, ungroomed. Tawnystar slowly touched a paw to her side, and it easily met the ribs of her side as compared to flesh and muscle. There was another raspy puff, and a soft, trembling voice. "Tawnystar…" Looking down, the tom could see that her eyes were just barely slitted open. A now sickly yellow, she could barely focus on the leader.

"It's me, Cherryfeather." He confirmed in a mumble, briefly touching his tail to her pelt. She let out another breath, eyes closing, then opening once more slowly.

"Tawnystar… Beware… The spirit that runs… With the pack…" Her voice was hardly more than a wispy utter, forcing Tawnystar to suppress a shiver. He wasn't sure if she had just spoken a prophecy, or if her mind was so dazed she wasn't sure what she spoke of. He didn't have a chance to ask her, either. Her eyes slid closed again, but this time, didn't reopen. Her trembling breath had somewhat evened out. She was asleep.

He chose to not wake her, let her gain her strength through resting. He could consult her about it in the morning, or Thistletongue. See if he'd heard.

Turning, Tawnystar made his way out of the den and to his own.

The next morning, he heard more voices than normal. Blinking open sleep bleared eyes, he tried to decipher what was happening, but couldn't. What if they were under attack? Or someone came to the camp? Fur prickling, he scrambled to his paws, shuffling out of his den. Coming into the clearing, he leaped from his den, seeing cats congregated around something.

"What's going on?" He demanded. Cats turned to him, taking in the still bedraggled sight of their leader, before splitting slightly. In the center of the huddle lay Cherryfeather. She was well groomed, and the way she lay, with her paws tucked under her snowy chest, she looked at peace. The age could hardly be seen on her patchy fur.

Tawnystar's shoulders drooped. He felt all alert leave his body as he slowly dragged himself forward on stone paws. Thistletongue came out, lavender stuffed in his jaws, set down beside her. He hooked one with a claw, rubbing it over her pelt. "She joined StarClan sometime during the night." He informed, not looking at his leader. "She's almost ready for vigil."

"Right." Tawnystar mumbled, dipping his head. He turned to his clan. Most looked sullen, but he could see the accepting factors on their faces. Some looked almost a little fearful about whatever illness she had caught. "It was her time," Tawnystar started as he faced the brunt of the clan. "Let's not forget who her mentor was. Frostpath, SnowClan's second medicine cat, and the one who discovered the Moonpath. Cherryfeather was an elder cat, who served her clan for many good seasons. We shall grieve, but we shall also greet a new generation with Thistletongue as medicine cat." He gave a flick of his ears as other cats uttered their approval.

When Thistletongue finished preparing Cherryfeather, Tawnystar was the first to settle by her. He settled at her head, nose pressing into the fur of her neck. Her body was cold, the very faint scent of illness clinging yet to her fur, though it was mostly blotted out by herbs. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feel of his former medicine cat's fur beneath his nose and the settling of his clanmates beside him, but only ill thoughts plagued his mind.

He didn't know this was the start of something. A medicine cat growing ill was rare, and when it usually happened, it didn't lead to anything good. Cherryfeather was old, so that could have played a factor, but Tawnystar wasn't too sure on it.

 _Oh, StarClan… Please don't let this lead to anything big._ He prayed silently, pressing his muzzle only further into Cherryfeather's fur.


	2. Chapter 1

The following weeks only proved to bring more illness to the clan. The first cat to fall sick to it was Spiderfrost. The elder tom had barely survived two days with it before he was taken by StarClan. Only five days later, the other three elders had succumbed to the illness, and had died, unable to be cured. Thistletongue was starting to give some warriors herbs to prevent whatever it this was, although so far, it had just seemed to affect the elderly.

That is, until a young warrior named Needleflower shared their same fate. The same symptoms were wrought upon her, and she had died shortly after coughing up an alarming amount of blood. Soon to follow was the senior warrior Milkypelt, as well as another one, Petaltail. Marblenose's kits had died one by one, and her death had come shortly after.

Other cats were falling ill, showing the same symptoms. Over the days they didn't get better, and with so few healthy cats, prey in the cold weather did not come easy. Thistletongue had his den full of cats, so when Swiftwater began to feel a little tight chested, he had to fight to keep his panic hidden. He didn't think it was the same symptom display as the sickness, but he wasn't sure. He didn't want to bother Thistletongue in his den with his paws already full, but he wanted to fight… Whatever this was off before it got worse.

The hunting patrol didn't go too well. His breath was raspy, and it was hard for him to draw in soft, quiet breaths. He'd pulled himself nearly silent through undergrowth, and when he'd gotten close to the mouse, ready to pounce, the breath he drew in had rattled. The mouse had darted away without a second thought, but he hadn't been quick enough. He fell flat on the ground, a groan leaving his chest as he pried his eyes open.

He could just see the mouse scamper through the bushes, outside the territory, but the telltale squeak showed it had been caught. Swiftwater lifted his head, ears twitching in confusion. His pale yellow gaze narrowed, and he pushed himself to his paws, crouching and picking his way through the bushes. Taking cover, he drew in a breath as a cat stood up, looking around. She was very pretty, Swiftwater noticed, with a soft brown speckled pelt, and sky blue eyes. She set the mouse down briefly, lifting her head and tasting the air.

"I know you're there. You're one of the those pack cats, right?" She spoke, looking over the area, at no place in particular. Swiftwater cursed himself, hesitation heavy in his paws. He glanced over. He could just… Back out, pretend he was never here. "You seem ill, too. I know how to cure illnesses." She insisted, and the black and white tom's ears flattened. His medicine cat knew herbs, too, but he was always so busy now…

Finally, Swiftwater crawled out, shaking the debris out of his pelt as he stood. The she-cat's eyes locked on him, and her whiskers twitched in greeting. She didn't move from where she stood, however, and he wasn't sure why.

"Am I supposed to come over there?" He asked, finally.

"Am I allowed to come into your territory?" She responded, tilting her head inquisitively. So, she wasn't really a rogue… She seemed to respect boundaries.

"Uh… Yeah, sure." He answered, a little dumbly. _Mousebrain. You should cross out of yours._ He thought, pelt twitching somewhat anxiously as the she-cat ducked her head, picking up the mouse, and trotted lightly over to him. She seemed to maneuver through the territory without hassle, unlike most others not in SnowClan.

"I don't like to cross boundaries without permission." She admitted once she reached him, setting the mouse down. "I mean, I don't think they're really necessary, but I know that's the way you all deal with your different packs."

"Packs?" He echoed, confused. It seemed to click, though, just as she was about to explain, so he spoke first. "O-Oh, the clans. They're called clans." He corrected finally, giving a sure swish of his tail.

"Oh wow, really? We've been calling them packs this whole time." She blinked, genuine curiosity in her eyes.

"We?" The tom echoed, looking around cautiously.

"Yes, my group. We live out beyond your territory." She informed, looking over her shoulder to where she had come from. "A little ways back. We don't hunt on your land, of course, but we have observed you. We're curious." She admitted, training her pretty blue eyes back onto him.

"I… I see. How long have you lived there for?" He asked. She shrugged, nose twitching as she pondered the question.

"Personally, I've lived with them for about two or three moons. I'm not sure how long they've all been there, though." She admitted. Swiftwater swallowed, ears twitching back faintly. There had been cats right outside SnowClan the whole time, and nobody had known? Or, at least, nobody had said anything… "What's your name?" His head lifted more, as did his ears, when she spoke again.

"Swiftwater. Yours?" He responded.

"Fallow." She responded, curling her tail up.

"Fallow…" He mumbled, the name strange on his tongue.

"Yes. A deer." She responded, voice somewhat teasing.

"You're… Not from around here, are you." He confirmed, not a question, but a statement.

"I am generally, yes. My parents weren't, though. They came from far." She waved her tail, glancing out to nowhere in particular. She raised her nose, scenting the air for a few moments, before squinting passed the foliage of the trees. "Oh, mousedung, I better get back. Tavvia will be kitting soon." She commented, bending her head to pick up her mouse. Suddenly, she stopped, though, eyeing Swiftwater. She drew back up, shifting back. "You take it."

"Me?" He blinked in surprise at her proposition, and she only gave a nod.

"It… Really should've been your mouse." She admitted, scuffing a paw on the ground for a moment. "It's not your fault you're sick. I don't know if you clan cats have herbs for illnesses, but they work well. You're showing the signs of something that two of our cats had. Mouse didn't make it, but Flower did. We used some frostmint to help cure it, and the rabbit nose flower to help strengthen her afterwards." She suggested.

Frostmint? Rabbit nose? He'd never heard of any of those. Then again, he wasn't a medicine cat, but he knew _some_ herbs… Like, marigold, and tansy… Yarrot… Or was it yarrow? "Uh… Okay." He responded slowly, tail tip twitching. Fallow's own tail twitched in amusement, and she took a step back.

"Okay, silly. Enjoy that mouse. I'll see you around." She teased, and as she turned, her tail whisked across Swiftwater's nose. Without another word, she bounded through the foliage, out of the territory, and soon, out of sight. For a few moments, he just stood there, struggling to regain composure and breath.

 _What… Just happened?_ He swore he would've just thought all of that up, but as he bent his head to pick up the mouse, Fallow's sweet scent lingered in his nostrils and bathed his tongue. _Wow… She sure was something… And educated! She knew about herbs, and how to hunt. I'm sure she can fight too. She'd be a great asset to the clan._ He thought, distracted as he trudged back to camp. He had to stop and set down the mouse briefly as he became winded from the trek, hardly able to breath through his nose.

 _Foxdung… I am getting the illness… I can't let this happen. I need to help my clan._ He shook his head, focusing back as he picked up the mouse and hurried back. He slipped into the camp, his pawsteps slowing as he saw a body laid out in the middle of camp. Striped tabby orange fur and white markings revealed Nimblefoot, unmoving. Swiftwater's shoulders sagged, and continued on, setting the mouse down in the pile, before trotting back over.

"When did she…?" He started, coming up besides his littermate, Cloudnettle. She turned to him, her golden eyes heavy with defeat, much like her posture.

"While the patrol was out. Where are the others?" She asked, looking around. Swiftwater opened his jaws to reply, but closed them, his ears starting to burn. _I can't believe I forgot about the others on the patrol!_ He cursed himself, fur prickling faintly as he lowered his head.

"U-Uh… They're…" He turned his head as the rest of the patrol burst into camp. Beechnose came in first, a thrush clamped in his jaws. Following was Mapleflight, a small vole in her own. The two spotted Swiftwater, their ears perking as they made their way over.

"What happened?" Beechnose asked as he set his bird down, confusion evident. Swiftwater could tell the sandy orange tom was a little irate as well.

"I… Honestly, I forgot." The black and white tom meekly replied, dipping his head. He sniffed slightly, and Mapleflight frowned, setting her own prey down.

"Please go see Thistletongue. You could stop this illness before it gets worse. I can tell you're struggling, Swiftwater, don't hide it." She pressed as the tom made to argue, but closed his jaws. The two then looked at Nimblefoot's body, bowing their heads. "I didn't know she was so bad off." The amber and orange she-cat murmured, a somber note taking over her voice. Swiftwater looked away, pushing past them all. He didn't want to think the same thing could happen to him.

Pushing into the medicine den, he was swamped with the stench of illness and herbs. The sound of cats coughing and wheezing was taking over the normally quiet den, and Swiftwater sought Thistletongue. "Oh, no, not you too." He heard the tom meow, and saw him trot out from the shadows. The medicine cat looked worn and tired, his fur ungroomed, eyes heavy as his tail.

"Yeah… I know." Swiftwater mumbled, shoulders dropping as he sniffled, coughing shortly afterwards. "Do you have… Uh… Some frostmint?" He asked, managing to recall one of the names. Thistletongue's ears twitched, as did his nose.

"Frostmint? No, I don't." He responded, slightly confused, and concerned.

"U-Uh… Okay… Rabbit nose?" He tried. The medicine cat's eyes narrowed, his tail giving a slow, low lash.

"Where did you hear these names?" He asked suspiciously, amber eyes boring into Swiftwater's own yellow ones. The black and white warrior swallowed, shifting a half step back. If he came out and said a rogue told him that, Thistletongue may think that he was really ill for listening to someone like that. He'd probably be confined in camp, with all the other sick cats, and he'd only grow worse.

 _Maybe I was a mousebrain for listening to her… But, she seemed so genuine._ He thought, eyes dwindling down to search the ground. "Um… I don't know. I thought those were herbs." He finally answered, dragging his gaze but up to meet the brown tom's. Thistletongue narrowed his eyes once again, watching Swiftwater with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Mm… Maybe you were thinking of catmint." He finally deciphered. Swiftwater could tell he didn't believe him, but held his tongue as the tabby tom turned to sift through some herbs. "Here." He dropped a couple leaves at his paws, and Swiftwater bent his head obediently, lapping them up. He stifled a gag as Thistletongue spoke. "There's not a whole lot of room in here. I'd rather you sleep in the warriors' den- _Away_ from the other cats. You'll be lucky if we caught the cold in time." His nose twitched again. "Grab a bite and rest for the day. Save your strength for tomorrow. The clan needs as many paws as it can get." He dismissed Swiftwater with a twitch of his ears, and the warrior stood after passing his tongue several times over his jaws.

"Thanks." He grunted, turning and slipping from the den. Absentmindedly, he watched as Nimblefoot's body was carried out by young warriors. His heart ached to see the sight, and he looked away. _There wasn't even a proper vigil._ Swallowing tight-throat, he couldn't find himself hungry enough to eat, so he just slipped away into the warriors' den.


	3. Chapter 2

The next day, his chest didn't feel as heavy when he woke up. His nose didn't seem very wet either, so he got up without problem. He gulped down a small mouse the dawn patrol had brought back, and was soon called up by the deputy, Emberjaw. "Can you go hunting? Try near the outskirts of the territory, we haven't poked around there too much yet today." The black and brown tom asked. Swiftwater obliged, turning and quickly making his way out of camp.

He'd found his best luck yesterday was where he'd… Met Fallow. Hopefully trying there again would prove successful. Making his way over, he was pleasantly surprised to pick up the scent of blackbird, and spotted it no later scuffling among the roots of a tree. Crouching down, he pulled himself forward, silent as possible. He tried to stifle his breath as he began to wheeze again, and wasted no time in pouncing. The bird tried to flutter up, but Swiftwater's name rang true.

His paws outstretched, he managed to claw the bird's wings and drag it down. He swiftly finished it off with a bite to the neck. "Great catch!" Startled, he jumped, head swinging over. Fallow stood outside the territory once more, in the same place, tail curled up, eyes bright.

"Fallow!" He meowed, voice sounding surprisingly animated for him. He took in another breath to speak again, but only found himself coughing, looking away briefly.

"Oh, no, I hope you took some of the frostmint and rabbit nose like I said." She spoke, worry in her voice, and Swiftwater waved his tail. Finally regaining composure, he spoke next.

"Fallow, are you sure you didn't make those herbs up? My medicine cat had never heard of them." He confronted, scraping some leaves over his bird as he approached her. Head tipped to the side, Fallow gave a mrrow of confusion.

"Medicine cat?" She echoed.

"Yeah. He has a bunch of herbs, and heals the clan when we're sick or injured." He explained. He assumed they all just knew about herbs in Fallow's group, so no wonder she was confused.

"Oh! That's cool. He's really never heard of those two before though?" She asked, whiskers twitching in surprise.

"Err… No. I'm gonna guess you found them outside the territory. By your group." He guessed. Fallow dipped her head.

"Would you like me to grab you some?" She offered. He blinked. Would she really…?

"Would you really not mind sharing your herbs?" He asked. She chuckled faintly, giving a shake of her head.

"Of course not! Just wait here, I'll be right back." She insisted, turning and bounding away into the undergrowth. Swiftwater obeyed, glancing back to make sure his blackbird remained buried, before sitting. Fallow did return soon, her jaws stuffed full of herbs he'd never seen before. She dropped them at his paws, and pawed the two separately. She pushed a white, leafy plant towards him. "This is the frostmint. Take two leaves." She instructed, pawing at one.

Swiftwater bent his head, nipping off a leaf and chewing it, before repeating the same with another. It tasted bitter(no surprise), but also like… Frost, he figured. After swallowing it, he looked at the rabbit nose. It was a small little… Puff ball, almost, with a pink bud on the bottom of it. It had leaves, too, budding from the bottom. He scrunched up his nose as he imagined having to eat it.

"Don't worry, this one is different." Fallow chuckled as she saw the look on his face. She peeled off the leaves, and clawed off some of the fluff as well. "Eat the leaves and the pink part. If you get some of the fuzz in your mouth, that's fine. Be sure to swallow it, though, as irritating as it is!" She churred, pressing her paw on the remaining fuzz, and moved to his side. Swiftwater lapped up the leaves and the bud, chewing thoroughly on it. He struggled to swallow with some of the pieces of fuzz, but managed anyways. He could feel Fallow pressing some of the fuzz into his scruff, and flicked an ear.

"Why are you doing that?" He inquired.

"This helps in the revival process. Not sure how, but it seemed to work a miracle for

Flower." She informed, brushing her paws against the ground after she finished, standing and trotting back in front of him. As Swiftwater sat up, surprisingly enough, he felt his chest was less heavy. He coughed slightly, anxiety stirring inside him as he felt his lungs catch fire. _Has she tricked me?_ As it continued, though, he realized it was more similar to frost than fire, and it began to slow down. "It will feel weird, but the feeling goes away." She explained, although it didn't do much to calm the tom down.

"I don't like it." He muttered, grimacing as it slowly began to ease away.

"I understand. I don't think anyone does." She admitted with another churr of laughter. "Your lungs should feel a lot more clear, though. I'm sure your nose does, too." She commented, bringing a paw up and gently bopping him on the nose. Swiftwater was startled by her action, but didn't condemn her on it, instead offering a small, breathless purr.

"You're right. It does feel a little more clear." He breathed in deeply, coughing from the action, but that was to be expected. "Thanks." He croaked out after his small fit, his eyes locking with her own, amusement passing between the two.

"Of course. You're a nice cat, Swiftwater, and have a long life ahead of you I'm sure. I'd never turn down a cat in need." Fallow responded genuinely, nudging the rest of the herbs towards him. "The illness seemed rather contagious, so why don't you take the rest back to your clan just in case?" She suggested. Swiftwater couldn't feel more grateful, considering more than half of his clan seemed to be sick.

"Yeah, that will really help actually. Thanks, again. You, uh... " He stopped short. Fallow was nice, and very caring, but in case of anything in the future that could come back on him, he couldn't give away too much. He couldn't let her know that his clan was literally falling dead around his paws. Maybe Fallow was nice, but her other friends… Not so much, possibly. He didn't want to take the risk. "Yeah. Just… Thanks. Is there anyway I can repay you?" He offered. He wanted to do something, just, of course, he was limited.

"Just with your friendship, I suppose." She responded, sitting up with sparkling eyes. "I'd like you to visit our camp, once, at least. Some of the kits there know about your clans too, and they're very curious- We all are. We'd love to hear stories." She answered. He was a little startled to hear that, but he didn't really mind, at all. He'd like to see what her group was like, admittedly. How they worked, how many there were, and so forth.

"Of- Of course. I can probably come in a couple of days, if that works. I have a lot to do around my clan, so getting away will be hard." He admitted. Fallow's eyes flickered, and her head tipped to the side.

"Is it? Are you very important to your clan?" She asked. Swiftwater couldn't say that he was just a warrior like anyone else, but his clan was dying so he needed to step up, so he chose his words carefully.

"Every warrior is important to the clan. They all help out, and that's how we all survive together. Everyone has an important role, from the smallest kit, to oldest elder." He explained. Already he could see Fallow was curious about this, but also seemed to accept what he said. He'd go as far as to say she enjoyed his words.

"I see. Okay, I understand. It sounds like you're all very close to each other. That definitely has the foundation of a strong bond." She purred, rising to her paws. "I'd love to know more, so I hope you can tell us when you visit."

"I will." He agreed with a dip of his head, pushing himself to his paws as well. "What's better for you? I can usually do only early morning, or late evening." He informed.

"Morning would work better. Does three sunrises from now work for you?" She offered. Swiftwater couldn't be too sure, but he dipped his head either way.

"I-I mean, I can stop by around sunhigh here briefly, too, within the next couple of days. If you wanted to, y'know, talk or whatever." He suddenly put out, scraping his paw lightly against the ground. Fallow purred softly, tail curling up.

"Sure! I can do that. I'll let you get back to your clan, now, since you're really busy. I'll see you tomorrow." She chirped, reaching to touch her nose to his ear, before turning and bounding back through the foliage.

"Yeah, tomorrow! Bye!" He called after her, watching her tail disappear. He sighed, a warm feeling crawling through his chest. _She's so wonderful._ He couldn't help but think to himself as he bent down to pick up the herbs, then trotted back over to his blackbird. He pulled it out, stuffing that in his jaws too as he made his way back to camp.


End file.
